


Liminality

by the__magpie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accountant Castiel (Supernatural), Airports, Dean has a Fear of Flying, Dean/Cas Tropefest 5k Mid-Winter Challenge, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mechanic Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the__magpie/pseuds/the__magpie
Summary: Stuck at an airport at 2 AM, Castiel Novak meets Dean Winchester. Neither of them realize that their lives are about to be changed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been tinkering with this fic for literal months. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks so much to muse and Jojo for running the Dean/Cas Tropefest Mid-winter 5k! I'm glad I could be a part of it! And thank you for the beautiful banner!

 

 

“You’re kidding me.”

Castiel looked toward the sound of the raised voice and saw a man drop his head onto the desk of Gate D4 while the woman behind it blinked uncertainly.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t fly in this weather. You’ll have to wait until the morning.”

“The morning,” the man mumbled. “Fuck.” Dragging his head off the desk, he slumped into the seat opposite Castiel and dropped his duffel bag beside him. Noticing Castiel’s eyes on him, he scowled and looked away toward the rain battering the windows of the airport.

The digital clock above the desk read a quarter past 2 AM and the terminal was nearly empty. Only a handful of people had showed up for the red-eye flight from Chicago to Kansas City and everyone else was typing on laptops or sleeping in their chairs. Castiel knew he should try to catch some sleep as well, but he’d had coffee a few hours ago and these chairs were too rigid to get comfortable in. Besides, he had never been able to resist staying up to watch a storm as a boy and it seemed he hadn’t grown out of it. Lightning stuttered across the sky and briefly lit up the airplanes sitting ghostlike on the runway.

He cast a smile toward the man across from him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmured.

The man looked up from his phone. “Sorry?”

Castiel nodded toward the windows. “The storm.”

The scowl returned, deeper than before. “This storm is keeping me from getting home, so it’s just an inconvenience to me.” He looked back to his phone just as it emitted a high-pitched beeping noise. Swearing under his breath, he tossed the dead phone onto the seat beside him.

“Here.” Castiel dug into his backpack and pulled out a charger. The man swiped it out of his hand and plugged it into the outlet on his armrest, visibly relaxing when the screen lit up.

“I’m Castiel, by the way,” he offered.

The man looked up, blinking a few times before processing Castiel’s words. “Oh . . . Castiel? I’m Dean. Thanks for the charger.” He leaned across the empty space between them to shake Castiel’s hand. “What brings you to the 2 AM flight to Kansas?”

“Emergency business meeting. My boss couldn’t make it so she’s sending me instead.”

“Yeah? What do you do?”

“Tax accounting.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow.”

“What is it?”

He let out a snort. “That sounds really boring.”

Castiel found himself smiling. “That’s the reaction I get from most people, though they usually aren’t as direct about it.”

“Sorry.” The expression on Dean’s face settled into something resembling exhaustion. “It’s the middle of the night and I’m supposed to be home soon and . . .” He ran a hand over his face. “Sorry I’m a dick.”

“No need to apologize. I can’t imagine this is the way you would like to be spending your Friday night.”

Dean let out a small, humorless laugh and shook his head.

“What’s your reason for the late flight?” Castiel asked.

Dean hesitated, swallowing. For a moment Castiel thought he wouldn’t say anything, but then his mouth opened and the words fell out like he couldn’t hold them back, his voice rough. “Was up here for work and got a call that my brother was in an accident. He’s in the hospital and . . .” His voice cracked and he looked up at the ceiling. “I’m the only family he’s got and I’m not there for him.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured.

“Yeah, well.” Dean blinked rapidly and Castiel looked away, politely pretending not to notice the moisture in his eyes. “I hate flying, actually. Terrified of it. Drove myself all the way here but it’s a nine hour drive and I can’t make him wait that long.”

“Will he be alright?”

“Yeah. One of the nurses has been keeping me updated. A couple of broken ribs and a shoulder sprain and probably a concussion. Some drunk kids t-boned him at an intersection. He was at a study party, because that’s the kind of nerd he is.” Dean let out a snort that sounded half choked sob. “He’s just a kid. He’s in high school. He shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

Castiel said nothing and after a few moments Dean sniffed loudly and leaned back in his seat, running a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Shit, sorry man, you didn’t come here to listen to some guy complain about his life.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Castiel said. “Tell me more about your brother.”

 

* * *

 

The hour hand on Castiel’s watch hit three. He sat leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees.

“April 1st – that’s the day Stanford sends out acceptance letters. It’s only a couple weeks away and he’s so nervous. He’s been accepted to a couple other schools but his heart is set on Stanford. Fuck if I know how we’ll pay for it. But he applied to every scholarship, and I really think he’ll get in. Kid’s a genius, Cas. You should meet him someday, I think you two would get along.”

“I think I would like that very much,” Castiel smiled.

Dean leaned back in his seat with a long sigh. “Sorry, I’ve probably bored you to death with all my talking.”

“You haven’t bored me, Dean. In fact, I find your life fascinating.”

“Enough about me.” Dean waved his hand impatiently. “Tell me something not boring about you, Mr. Tax Accountant.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very interesting.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Tell me about yourself.”

Castiel ducked his head, smiling. “I’m the youngest of five brothers. I grew up in Pontiac, Illinois, then moved to Chicago for college and stayed there to work.”

“What made you go into accounting?”

“I’m good with numbers, so one of my professors in college set me up at an internship and . . .” He shrugged. “I ended up staying with it.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Dean sounded slightly hesitant when he asked, “Do you . . . like your job?”

“What’s not to like? I have a steady income and I’ve managed to work my way to an upper level position at a fairly young age.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “C’mon, Cas.”

“Dean, tax accounting is an important job and even if it sounds boring to you, it’s necessary for—”

“No, no, I get that. But it sounds to me – stop me if I’m wrong – like you took the first job you were good at without considering what would make you happy.”

Castiel opened his mouth and closed it again, unable to think of a thing to say. Finally, he mumbled, “Do you talk like this to everyone you meet at the airport?”

“Cut me some slack, it’s the middle of the night. What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“I . . .” Castiel rolled his eyes. “It’s stupid.”

“What is it?”

“Well . . . I suppose I wanted to be a writer.”

A wide grin spread across Dean’s face. “A writer!”

“Don’t laugh,” Castiel warned.

“I’m not laughing!” Dean looked delighted. “That’s amazing. You should do it!”

“Wha . . . Just like that? Drop my career and all the security and potential I have there to pursue a stupid childhood dream?”

“Why not?”

“Why not . . .” Castiel snorted. “Dean, I could give you a hundred reasons why not. First of all, I have a good job now. The fact that my boss trusts me enough to send me to this meeting is a promising sign that I may be promoted soon.” Eager to move the conversation back away from himself, he said, “Anyways, you never told me what you do.”

“I’m a mechanic. For now, at least.”

“For now? Why would you need to come up to Chicago for a job like that?”

“Well.” It was Dean’s turn to look embarrassed. “I’m also a singer.”

“A singer?”

“Don’t give me that look, I know what you think of careers like that. But at least I’m going after what I want instead of staying in a job I don’t care about. I came to Chicago to work out a contract with a record company. We were supposed to meet tomorrow, or today, I s’pose.”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Dean, I think it’s wonderful that you’re pursuing your dream. I’m sorry that you have to miss your meeting.”

“I can probably come back another time, it’s not a big deal,” Dean said, though the frown on his face told Castiel otherwise. “I just got sick of sitting around and waiting for my life to get better, you know?”

Castiel started to nod and then stopped, dropping his eyes to the carpet as a frown stole across his face.

 

* * *

 

“I went on a trip around the world after I graduated college,” Castiel said. It was close to 4 AM and they sat side by side on the floor, watching the rain pound against the windows. “I took a month off work and travelled everywhere I could think of with my best friend Hannah. I thought it would help me find myself, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.”

Dean whistled. “Fuck, Cas, how rich are you?”

“My parents are rather wealthy. They financed the trip – although finances were about the extent of the parenting they did.”

“What, too busy running their massive money empire to have time for you?”

“Something like that. I think they gave birth to us and forgot that they even had children.” Castiel tried to sound casual and breezy, as if he didn’t care. “Besides, I was their fifth child, so any affection they might have once had for us was long since used up by the time I came along.”

Dean frowned, saying nothing and staring down at his lap.

“What about your parents?” Castiel asked, nudging Dean with his shoulder.

“Ah.” Dean laughed bitterly. “There’s a shitshow if you’ve ever seen one.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry—”

“Naw, it’s the time of the night for tragic backstories, isn’t it?” Dean exhaled slowly and leaned back, tilting his head up. “My mom died when I was little so my dad raised my brother and I, but we didn’t have much in the way of money. He bailed on us as soon as I turned eighteen and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

“Dean, I’m sorry.”

Smiling sardonically, Dean held up the plastic water cup they had retrieved from the desk at the gate. “To shitty parents.”

Castiel snorted and tapped his own cup against Dean’s.

 

* * *

 

“What would you write about?” Dean asked.

“What?”

“If you were a writer. Would you write novels? Self help guides? Textbooks?”

“Novels,” Castiel said decidedly. “I love stories.”

“What kind of stories would you write?”

A blush rose to Castiel’s cheeks. “You’ll laugh at me.”

Dean made an X over his heart. “Promise I won’t.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Romance, alright? I like writing romance.”

At least Dean appeared to make a valiant effort not to smile, though he failed. Castiel made a disapproving noise. “You promised.”

“I’m not laughing at that, Cas, I swear. You’re so damn cute when you’re flustered.”

The blush deepened and Castiel ducked his head, hiding his face with one hand. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m messin’ with you, Cas.” Dean nudged him teasingly. “So romance, that’s cool. Does that mean you have a special someone in your life?”

Castiel frowned suspiciously. “Why?”

“Innocent curiosity,” Dean said, holding up his hands defensively. “Is that allowed?”

“No,” Castiel said. “I don’t have a special someone now.” He sighed heavily. “And it’s a stupid dream, Dean. I don’t even know what I’d write about.”

Dean hummed thoughtfully. “You could write about a weird guy you met at the airport at 2 AM.”

“I said I want to write romance.”

“It could be a romance.”

Castiel looked up and held Dean’s eyes for a moment and couldn’t think of a thing to say. They sat shoulder to shoulder and the inches between them seemed to buzz.

The ring of a cell phone made Castiel jump. “Shit,” Dean muttered, looking down at the phone sitting beside him. He picked it up, about to press _accept_ when his finger froze over the button.

“Dean?” Castiel asked after a few seconds as the phone continued to ring.

“That’s my dad’s number,” Dean whispered.

Castiel moved to lay a hand on Dean’s arm, but Dean was already standing up and putting the phone to his ear.

“Dad?” he said in a tentative voice. A few seconds later, “Yeah, it’s me. Yeah.”

Dean stepped away a few paces and Castiel couldn’t hear what he was saying over the pounding of the rain. He picked at the carpet and leaned his chin on his hands to watch the storm outside.

Twenty minutes later, Dean slumped back down beside Castiel, still staring at his phone as if expecting it to grow fangs and attack him.

“Dean?” Castiel said hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered. He put the phone down and looked at his hands, absently running a thumb over his palm. “The hospital had his phone number on record so they called him, though why he picked up for them when I’ve been trying for years . . .” His voice wavered and he took a breath. “He’s at the hospital now, with Sam. Turns out he was only a few hours away from us this whole time. Sam’s pretty pissed but he’s too tired to be really angry.”

“And what about you?” Castiel asked softly. “Are you angry?”

“I—” Dean’s voice broke and he turned his face away from Castiel. It was a few moments before Castiel realized that his shoulders were shaking.

“Dean,” he murmured. Dean put his hand over his face to cover the tears spilling from his eyes, but a sob hiccupped from his throat. Castiel put a hand on Dean’s back and Dean turned toward him, resting his forehead against Castiel’s shoulder. His tears soaked through Castiel’s white button up while Castiel kept one arm around him. Neither of them moved away until Dean’s shoulders stopped shaking and he lifted his head, taking deep breaths.

“God, I’m pathetic,” he mumbled, swiping at his red eyes.

“Of course not, Dean,” Castiel said gently.

“Just took me by surprise. I wasn’t ready for it.” Dean avoided Castiel’s eyes. “Sorry you had to see that, man. You must think I’m a total loser.”

Castiel’s touched Dean’s cheek and lifted his face up. Dean’s eyes darted around before settling on Castiel’s, blinking rapidly.

“You’re allowed to be hurt by this,” Castiel said. “I would be worried if you weren’t. Don’t think that my opinion of you is going to change because you reacted appropriately to a traumatic experience.”

“Ladies and gentlemen.” The gate attendant’s voice crackled over the speaker system. She sounded as tired as Castiel felt. “I’m happy to say that Flight 401 to Kansas City will be boarding in thirty minutes.”

A collective sigh passed around the people at the gate. Dean leaned away from Castiel and wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. For a few moments they were both silent, then Dean said, almost too quietly to hear, “What am I gonna do, Cas?”

Castiel reached between them and took Dean’s hand, squeezing it. “You’re going to get on that plane and fly home to your brother, whether or not your father is there. And I’ll be right there with you.”

Dean looked at him sharply. “What? But your meeting!”

“It’s not important.”

“Not important?” Dean’s hand was tight in Castiel’s. “Cas, it’s your job! You can’t flake out for some guy you met at the airport.”

“I want to be there for you.”

“Bullshit. You have to go to that meeting. If you don’t, I’ll feel even worse about this whole situation.”

Frowning, Castiel nodded. “Alright. I’ll go to the meeting, if that’s what makes you happy.”

Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and his eyes flitted away to stare into his own lap.

A half hour later, they were finally boarding the plane. The storm had let up and the first faint glow of morning was visible over the airfield, making the wet concrete glisten. Less than thirty passengers were boarding so Castiel and Dean sat together near the front of the plane, with Castiel taking the window seat. When the plane lurched into motion, Dean let out a low groan and clutched his armrest with white knuckles.

“We’re going to be fine,” Castiel murmured, covering Dean’s hand with his. Dean said nothing, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

The plane rolled onto the runway and the engines roared as it picked up speed. Castiel heard Dean’s breath catch and he squeezed his hand until Dean let go of the armrest to cling to his hand in a crushing grip. “Breathe,” Castiel instructed. “You’re gonna make it through this.”

Contrary to Castiel’s instructions, Dean appeared to be holding his breath as the plane lifted off from the runway. Castiel felt himself being pressed into his seat and his stomach swooped as if it was being left on the ground below them. Dean’s eyes were shut tightly and he clung to Castiel’s hand so tightly that it was painful.

When the plane stopped shaking and leveled out, Dean let out a slow breath and cracked his eyes open. “Look, Dean,” Castiel murmured, leaning toward the window. “It’s sunrise.” Golden rays of sunlight spilled over the horizon, sparkling against the raindrops streaked across the window. When Castiel looked over, Dean was almost smiling.

They pushed up the armrest between them so they could sit pressed against each other. Dean rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder and before long his breathing steadied out, falling asleep with his mouth open. Not wanting to disturb him, Castiel had to ask a flight attendant to pull his book from his bag so he could read. He found it hard to concentrate on the words with Dean’s warm breath ghosting over his neck.

It was a fairly short flight; by the time the sun was fully over the horizon, they were touching down in Kansas City. Dean woke up and seemed calmer landing than taking off, only looking ready to throw up when the plane bumped on the concrete runway. When it finally came to a stop at the terminal, he exhaled slowly and slumped in his seat with a weak grin at Castiel.

They left the plane together and followed the signs out of the terminal. Near the baggage claim, Dean paused. “I don’t have a car.”

“I’ll get you an Uber,” Castiel said, already taking out his phone.

“Cas, I can do it,” Dean said roughly, pulling out his own phone. “Don’t you have to get one for yourself?”

“I’m getting picked up. I’ve already texted them that I’ve landed but I don’t know how long it’ll be.”

Dean nodded, tapping on his phone. “The Uber will be here any minute.”

They both paused, seeming to realize simultaneously what this meant. Dean looked down at his feet and ran a hand through his hair. “Thank you, Cas. For everything.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Castiel said solemnly.

Dean frowned. “What are you thanking me for?”

It was Castiel’s turn to blush and look down. “You’ve made me . . . feel something. For so long I’ve been going through the motions without thinking about it. I haven’t cared about anything this much in a long time.”

When Castiel looked up, Dean’s eyebrows were pinched together slightly. He licked his lips. “Cas . . .” His phone buzzed and he broke eye contact. “My ride is here.”

“I’ll walk out with you.”

They stepped out of the airport to find Dean’s Uber waiting outside. Dean hesitated and Castiel saw the same barely-concealed panic that he had seen after Dean’s dad called. Castiel took his hand. “Dean, I could go with you.”

Dean shook his head quickly. “Your meeting.”

“I still have some time. It won’t be a problem.”

Dean chewed his lip, looking down at their clasped hands. His shoulders slumped and he looked at Castiel with a soft vulnerability on his face. “Come with me.”

They climbed into the car together. Castiel texted his ride about the change of plan before taking Dean’s hand again on the seat between them.

It was a thirty-minute drive to the hospital, even with no early Saturday morning traffic. Dean kept shifting in his seat and staring at the buildings passing by, not looking at Castiel. When they pulled up in front of the hospital, Dean jumped out of the car before Castiel could say anything, hurrying toward the door. Castiel caught up to him when Dean stopped just outside.

“Dean.” Castiel took his hand and found that Dean was shaking. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Dean took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m okay, Cas.”

They walked through the sliding doors together and started toward the front desk.

“Dean!” A man appeared from the waiting room and strode toward them. Dean froze, letting go of Castiel’s hand. The man threw his arms around Dean, who stiffly didn’t hug back. When the other man drew back, his eyes were red.

“Dad,” Dean said. The two were the same height, and Castiel could see traces of Dean on the older, bearded face.

“I’m glad you could make it.” Dean’s father’s eyes moved past Dean to settle curiously on Castiel. “John Winchester,” he said, holding out a hand.

“Castiel Novak.” He shook John’s hand as John looked at his son for an explanation. Dean looked too shaken to respond so Castiel stepped in. “I met Dean at the airport. I’m just here for moral support.”

“I see.” A note of coldness crept into John’s voice and he glanced at Castiel’s hand, which he had no doubt seen holding Dean’s on their way in.

“How’s Sammy?” Dean asked in a choked voice.

“He’s doing alright,” John said. “Last I heard, he was sleeping, but you can see him if you want.”

“Yeah, I think . . . I’ll do that.” Dean started forward and Castiel made to follow him, but John put a hand on his arm.

“It’s family only right now.”

“That’s alright,” Castiel said when Dean looked back at him.

“You don’t have to wait, Cas,” Dean murmured, dropping his eyes. Castiel swallowed back the words he wanted to say, doubting Dean would want to hear them in front of John. Instead, he nodded as Dean and John headed to the front desk.

He could have left then, but at the same time he knew he couldn’t. At least not without giving Dean a proper goodbye. He found a spot in the waiting room and texted his ride that he wouldn’t make the meeting. Then he pulled out his laptop and drafted an email to his boss. _Circumstances have revealed that this is not what I want to continue doing with my life. My resignation will be effective immediately. I regret any difficulties this may cause for you but I hope you understand that this job is no longer compatible with the life I want._ A tiny, rational side of his brain told him to wait and think about this more, but it hardly seemed important. His mouse hovered over the _Send_ button as he tried to think of a single reason not to click it. His breath released in a soft exhale when he did.

Forty-five minutes later, Dean wandered back into the waiting room. When he saw Castiel, the surprise on his face transformed into a wide smile. Castiel stood to step into his tight hug.

“How’s Sam?” he asked.

“He’s good.” Dean pulled away. “Better than I expected, actually. He woke up for a few minutes while I was in there. But what are you still doing here? What about your meeting?”

“I . . . decided not to go,” Castiel said carefully, looking down to avoid Dean’s eyes. To his relief, Dean didn’t seem upset. He raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle.

“Damn, Cas. Isn’t your boss going to be angry?”

“Probably.” Castiel met Dean’s eyes with a smile. “But I quit my job too.”

“Oh my God.” Dean laughed weakly. “I’m a bad influence on you, aren’t I?”

“You’re the best influence on me,” Castiel said truthfully.

Dean flushed.

“Where’s your father?” Castiel asked.

“He’s with Sam still.” They stood close together and their voices were soft, their words only for each other. “He wanted to talk to him privately.”

“And . . . how are you feeling about this?”

Dean sighed heavily. “I’m angry at him. I think I’ll always be angry at him. But right now I’m too tired to hate him as much as I thought I would. Is that wrong?”

“Of course not. You can only feel so much at one time, Dean. And whenever you feel ready to be properly angry, I’ll be there to support you.”

Dean blinked. “You mean that?”

“I do,” Castiel whispered.

Dean took a slow breath. “Cas, I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do. I mean it. You made one of the worst nights of my life into one of the best.”

“One of the best?” Castiel repeated with a laugh. “How . . .?”

“Because I met you.” Dean’s cheeks flushed but he took Castiel’s hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing his fingers. Then, meeting Castiel’s eyes, he cupped a hand around the back of Castiel’s neck and drew him forward to kiss his lips, slowly and gently. Castiel stepped closer to kiss him back, feeling it shiver through him all the way to his toes.

“Dean.”

With a gasp, Dean jumped away from Castiel and spun around. “Dad—”

John’s face was oddly blank. He unfolded a leather jacket from over his arm and started to pull it on. “I’m on my way out.”

“Wha . . . You’re leaving?”

“Yes.” John’s eyes were on the floor. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be more help.”

“So just that, and you’re MIA for another five years?” Dean’s voice had turned steely.

“Sam said he wanted me gone, so I’m gone. You boys can take care of yourselves now. You don’t need me.”

“You’re our father!” Dean burst out. “You can’t abandon us and expect everything to be okay!”

“Sam said—”

“Sam is angry, and he has every right to be. But that doesn’t mean you should do what he says because it’s the easy way out for you!”

John’s face was still blank when he looked up, but his eyes were hard. “I don’t know what you want from me, Dean. When I was around all we did was fight and you never listened to me. I come back to find that you’re still doing . . . this.” He gestured to Castiel without looking at him.

“Is that what this is about?” Dean’s voice was low and furious. “Then fine. If you don’t want to accept who I am, then I don’t want you in my life anyways.”

John took a step toward his son. “I left for you and Sam’s own good.”

“Bullshit!” Dean spat. “You left because you’re a coward. You always have been. You couldn’t accept that Mom was dead and you won’t accept that your son kisses men.”

John was frozen, staring at him.

“Sam and I were better off without you,” Dean snarled. “Go. And don’t bother pretending to care anymore.”

They stared each other down for a few heartbeats. Castiel half expected them to start throwing punches, but instead John dropped his eyes. “Fine. If that’s what you want.” He strode out the sliding doors without looking back.

Dean watched until he was out of sight, then slumped forward as if exhausted. Castiel gathered him into his arms.

“It’s alright,” he murmured between pressing kisses onto Dean’s neck as Dean trembled and clung to him. “You’re going to be okay.”

To his surprise, Dean was smiling when he drew back.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Dean said, quietly but decisively. “I really, really am.” He took Castiel’s face in his hands and kissed him, chasing everything thought from Castiel’s mind.

“Dean, your father,” Castiel murmured, pulling away slightly.

“I don’t care about him.”

“Dean . . .”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Of course I care. And I doubt that’ll be the last I see of him. But even Dad can’t make me feel bad right now.”

Castiel grinned and leaned his forehead against Dean’s. “Then I’m happy too.”

Dean dropped his eyes, suddenly sheepish. “So . . . I don’t know what your plan is, but I’ve got an apartment that you can stay at until you figure it out. If you want.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Dean laced their fingers together. “Then maybe I can take you out for coffee. You know, like normal people do.”

Castiel pressed his lips to Dean’s again. “Yes, please.”

“Mr. Winchester?” They turned to see a nurse by the entrance of the waiting room. “Your brother wants to see you.”

“Can I take a non-family member in?”

“Yes, that’s alright.”

Squeezing Castiel’s hand, Dean asked, “Do you want to meet my brother?”

“I would love to.”

“C’mon, Cas.” Tugging on his hand, Dean started toward the nurse, throwing a smile over his shoulder that Castiel couldn’t help but match.

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on tumblr!](http://theartofangirling.tumblr.com/)


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